


Sweet Memories

by Trumpeteer34



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Baking, Cookies, Fluff, Plot What Plot, Pre-Slash, Stark Spangled Banner - Freeform, belated Christmas fic, if you're wearing your shipping goggles, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trumpeteer34/pseuds/Trumpeteer34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as Steve stepped off of the elevator onto the community floor, he was engulfed in a delightful aroma. He paused outside the lift, taken aback, and breathed in the smell. Oh yes, someone was definitely baking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Memories

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters present. They belong to Marvel. Everything else that is recognizable belongs to their respective owners. This was written purely for fun.

As soon as Steve stepped off of the elevator onto the community floor, he was engulfed in a delightful aroma. He paused outside the lift, taken aback, and breathed in the smell. Oh yes, someone was definitely baking. The air was heavy with a heavenly scent of ginger and cinnamon, giving the expansive space a homey feel. It was a wonderful feeling, the coziness that countered the grey skies of December beyond the windows, hinting at the promise of snow. 

A small smile appeared on the soldier’s face. He began walking toward the communal kitchen, curious to see which of his teammates had been hiding this certain skill from them in the six or seven months they had been living in the tower together. As he rounded the corner, he felt his smile widen.

Standing at the island in the center of the kitchen was Dr. Banner. The sleeves of his standard button-down shirt had been rolled to elbow-level and his hands were buried deep into the glass bowl sitting atop the island, sifting what looked to be a crumbly mess of butter and flour. It made Steve grin to see the physicist using such a traditional means to perform the task as opposed to the new fancy high-tech methods. Surrounding the doctor along the counters were other ingredients and measuring utensils in what the soldier could only describe as an orderly chaos that only Bruce could have understood. 

Bruce hadn’t looked up yet from his task, nor did he seem to take note of Steve’s presence, which struck the soldier as odd. The task at hand must have really relaxed the doctor; normally, he would have glanced over by now and offered a sort of crooked smile of greeting. There was a tranquil look on his face, something exceedingly rare to see on the man at all, something that Steve couldn’t ever remember seeing in the past few months. 

He must have sensed he was being watched, for Bruce suddenly blinked out of his calm state and gazed over to Steve. He looked mildly surprised to see him standing there, but he still offered a welcoming smile.

Steve took that as his invitation to enter the carefully constructed space and stepped into the kitchen. “You do know that if Tony catches you in here, he’ll never actually let you leave,” he commented.

Bruce’s smile turned into a slight grin as he continued to work the ingredients in the bowl. “I figured I’d start early enough in the morning to try to avoid that,” he replied, but the words held nothing but warmth.

A comfortable silence fell between them as the soldier stepped around the doctor to grab a glass from the cabinet. That was when Steve first spied the neatly lined up gingerbread men lying on a wire cooling rack. “I didn’t know you baked,” the soldier mused, taking one last look at the cookies before he moved to the sink to fill up his glass from the tap. 

Bruce shrugged and continued to work without glancing up. “I haven’t had the chance to in a long time. It’s nice to have the opportunity to get back into it,” he admitted quietly.

Steve took a long drink from his glass of water and studied the physicist. There was a nostalgic look on the man’s face that told the soldier he was thinking back to times before his time spent as a fugitive, before the accident, before the Hulk. “So what prompted this?” Steve asked, unsure if he was interrupting good or bad memories floating through the doctor’s head.

The question seemed to snap the physicist from his thoughts and he looked up at Steve. A smile graced his features and he returned his focus to the bowl. “Betty and I used to bake a lot this time of year,” he said. “I guess with how much I’ve been able to communicate with her these past few months without the army breathing down my neck has reminded me of the little things we used to do.”

“You’ve been in contact with Dr. Ross?” Steve had read in Bruce’s file of Dr. Elizabeth Ross and Dr. Banner’s history together, back on the quinjet with Coulson right before the Chitauri invasion. It was only glossed over in the file, much like most of Dr. Banner’s life that didn’t have to do directly with the Hulk.

Bruce nodded and began to scrape the excess crumbs off his fingers. “We’ve been in contact since September. First letters, then text messages, emails, a phone call here or there. Only she’s Dr. Ross-Sampson now.”

Oh. _Oh…_

Dr. Banner glanced up at Steve’s silence and, finding a concerned look on the soldier’s face, smiled reassuringly. “It’s fine, Steve,” he said. “Leonard is a good guy, and I couldn’t be happier for them both.”

“How long have they been married?” Steve asked, watching as Bruce added a premeasured amount of sugar into the mix.

“Three years this March,” Bruce answered. When the concern didn’t fade from the soldier’s face, Bruce sighed. “Steve, really, it’s fine. I’m the one who broke off what we had. She had moved on when I found her before the whole Harlem…thing.” He cringed minutely at the mention of that event. “I didn’t want her to wait for something I could never give her. She’s happy with Leonard. She’s _happy,_ Steve; that’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

He was saved from continuing when the timer on the oven went off. After shooting the soldier another reassuring smile, he moved to the sink to rinse off his hands. “Can you do me a favor and set up the next cooling rack?”

“Sure,” Steve replied, putting down the glass of water as the doctor toweled off his hands. He easily set up the rack in question as the oven door opened. The air was suddenly laden with a fresh burst of cinnamon and sugary goodness. Steve couldn’t resist the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Golly day, Bruce, those smell amazing.”

He could hear the sheepish grin in the physicist’s mild “thank you.” The oven door closed and Steve stepped aside to let the man have access to the cooling rack. He watched as Bruce carefully transferred the little disks from the cookie sheet to the racks with a spatula. Once the task was complete, Bruce set the cookie sheet aside and moved to place another sheet of rolled cookie dough into the oven.

As he was setting the timer, Steve glanced back over at the undecorated gingerbread men sitting next to the cooling cinnamon cookies. “What are you planning to do with the gingerbread men?” he asked.

Bruce gazed over at the cookies in question before a small smile appeared on his face. “They should be cooled by now,” he said as he lightly picked one up. He passed it to Steve, asking him to try one, and moved around the island toward where the dining table was. The soldier’s eyes followed his movements even as he took a bite out of the cookie. 

It was the best gingerbread he had ever tasted. The spices weren’t overbearing, but held just the right balance between all of the other ingredients to create a tasting experience that could go down in the history books. He swallowed the bite before he spoke. “Never mind about Tony keeping you in here; I may just have to do that.”

Another smile spread across the doctor’s face. “I take it that it’s okay, then?”

“ _Okay?_ ” Steve repeated incredulously. “If you weren’t a scientist, I think you could honestly do this for a living. This is _great._ ” He took another bite of the cookie.

“I don’t know about all that…” Bruce hedged, but he was still smiling a little embarrassedly. “As to your previous question, I was going to ask you if you’d like to decorate them.” He sounded almost hesitant about the request.

When Steve’s eyebrows lifted minutely in surprise, Bruce continued. “I could never decorate these things.” He chuckled. “Betty banned me from it after my first unsuccessful attempt.”

“Why, what did it look like?” Steve asked in spite of himself, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

The doctor outright grinned. “She said it wasn’t fit to see the light of day. That’s all I’m going to say.” He returned his focus to the dining table, where a plastic bag full of candies and frostings and whatnot was sitting. “Anyway, it gave her something to do while I was baking.”

That made the soldier pause. “Wait, she only did the decorations?”

Bruce shrugged. “She never quite got the hang of baking, let alone using the oven,” he remarked. He looked back at Steve. “Would you be willing to decorate them? Because otherwise, I’ll just end up writing out the chemical formula for _vanillylacetone_ on each of them.” He paused again and looked off. “Although I think I should do that for one; Tony ought to get a kick out of that…”

Steve didn’t even try to pretend he knew what vanill-i-whatzit was as he stared at Bruce musing to himself. He wasn’t sure if it would be such a good idea, assuming the role that his ex-girlfriend took in all of those memories that made the good doctor smile so fondly. He didn’t want to intrude on the memory.

Then again…

“Are you sure?” he asked, breaking the physicist from his thoughts. At the quirked eyebrow, he elaborated. “Decorating, I mean.”

He paused again when Bruce smiled at him. “Absolutely,” the doctor assured him. “Please, have at it. You’ll do them more justice than I ever could. I don’t have an artistic gene in my body.” He moved over to grab the rack that was holding the gingerbread men. “I think I’ll do one or two, though. It’s been a long time.”

Steve smiled and grabbed his glass of water. “Alright, then. I’d be happy to help,” he said as he sat down at the table. He began rummaging through the bag as Bruce grabbed some paper towels for them to work on.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was maybe half an hour later before one of the other Avengers appeared.

“Alright, who’s been keeping this a secret?” came Tony’s voice from the room beyond the kitchen walls. 

Steve looked up from the gingerbread man he was carefully decorating at the inquiry and heard a mild chuckle from the doctor, who was mixing together another batter. Tony, dressed in a classy business suit, rounded the corner and paused, looking from Bruce, to Steve, then back to Bruce, and then back to Steve. It was probably quite the scene to take in, what with his lab partner wrist-deep in cookie dough and an army of gingerbread men surrounding the super-soldier at the table. 

“You’re back early,” Bruce greeted the man, pausing in his mixing to look over the rims of his glasses at the digital clock across the room. It was just shy of eleven o’clock. “I didn’t think Miss Potts would let you off the hook until at least three.”

Tony plastered a grin to his face and sauntered forward to the kitchen island. “It turns out the stomach bug that’s been floating around Manhattan has finally struck some of the board members. Tragic, really.” He almost managed that final part without a smirk twisting his lips. “I was so looking forward to that luncheon and disgustingly long meeting.”

“Mmhmm,” Bruce hummed in response. “And how torn up was Miss Potts?”

“Didn’t get a chance to ask,” the engineer replied with a shrug. “She’s out celebrating with Happy at some small restaurant downtown somewhere, completely heartbroken, I’m sure. I figured I’d head back and get started on that new project of ours a bit early.” He paused as he leaned over the counter to peer into the mixing bowl that the physicist was occupied with. “Though _this_ wasn’t quite what I had expected to arrive back to.” He glanced over his shoulder at Steve and eyed the gingerbread men scattered around him. “Nor _that_.”

A small smile appeared on Bruce’s face as he started to roll a small amount of dough into a ball between his hands. “I honestly didn’t expect you back for a few more hours. I’ve still got some more baking to do.”

“Oh, please, don’t let me stop you,” Tony said, his hands shooting up in a placating manner. “By all means, continue.” He moved around the island toward the coffee maker and started the machine. “I didn’t realize you masqueraded as Betty Crocker in your spare time, doctor,” the engineer remarked, eyeing the batch of cinnamon cookies that still rested on cooling racks on the counter space next to the coffee maker.

“I consider myself more of a Little Debbie,” Bruce quipped back, grinning at Tony’s bark of laughter.

“Whatever floats your boat, Banner,” Tony replied, a genuinely amused smirk still on his face. He leaned back against the counter and loosened the tie still encircling his neck, eyes trained on the doctor’s hand movements as he dropped the little round ball of dough onto a plate of sugar. Behind him, the caffeinated beverage began to trickle into the pot. “So, Little Debbie, you need some help?”

Bruce looked up and over at the engineer, ignoring the name to stare in mild surprise at Tony. “You want to help?”

“Not with the actual baking part; wouldn’t want to accidentally poison anyone,” Tony answered smoothly. 

“There are still plenty of gingerbread men that need to be decorated,” Steve said, making both men glance in his direction. He had been so quietly focused that they both seemed to just be remembering he was still in the room.

“There’s that,” Bruce agreed as he took more dough into his hands and began to shape it into a small ball. “There’s also a bag of Hershey’s kisses in that bag next to Steve; could you unwrap those and put them in a bowl, please?”

Tony moved around the island again and approached the table, but paused when he got a close-up look at the decorated gingerbread upon the surface. “Damn, Cap, I knew you were good with a pen and paper, but…wow.” There were maybe a dozen decorated cookies completed so far and another two and a half to go, but the ones that had been treated under the soldier’s careful hand looked positively stunning. Each one was unique and beautifully designed, displaying a range of colors and details that made looking at each of them a delightful experience. 

To hear such praise come from the engineer, let alone that he was mildly at a loss for words, made Steve duck his head and grin. “I never really got a chance to do this back in my day,” he said as he set the completed cookie aside and reached for another to decorate. “It’s nice to have all of these things to work with.” A sweeping hand gestured at the multitude of different bags and frostings scattered about him.

Tony made a noise in his throat and grabbed the bag of Hershey’s kisses, eyes still trailing over the elaborately decorated gingerbread men. “You want me to help you with this? Play kindergarten finger-painting to your _Starry Night_? No thank you.” He gave the soldier a solid pat on the back as he moved past him. “You keep doing what you’re doing, Monet, and I’ll—” He broke off when his gaze found one gingerbread lingering off to the side and let out another bark of laughter. “Really, Debs?”

Steve smiled at the lighthearted chuckle from Bruce and glanced over at the cookie decorated with what the physicist had said was a chemical formula for ginger.

“Alright, I may have to do _one_ ,” Tony amended, grin still present on his face as he sat himself down on a stool at the kitchen island. “What else aside from vanillylacetone are in those?” he asked, opening the bag of kisses.

The timer on the oven went off.

Bruce tilted his head as if in serious contemplation and rinsed off his hands. “Cinnamaldehyde,” he said after a moment. He toweled off his hands and moved to the oven to fetch the latest batch of cookies. Just like before, as soon as the oven door opened, the air was suddenly laden with the heavenly scent of cinnamon. Steve smirked to himself at the nearly obscene noise the engineer made in response.

There was a companionable silence between them as they all worked on their respective projects: Bruce carefully transferring the cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack, Steve meticulously and skillfully outlining one of the gingerbread men with frosting, and Tony peeling the foil wrappers away from the chocolate kisses. Once the next cookie sheet was safely tucked away in the oven and the timer was set, Bruce moved to one of the cabinets.

Tony looked up when a mug of coffee was placed gingerly at his elbow along with one of the cooled cinnamon cookies. 

As the doctor stepped around the island and picked up Steve’s empty glass to refill with water, Tony made another groan of appreciation around a mouthful of baked confection. “Please tell me this isn’t something you plan on doing annually.”

Bruce chuckled again as he moved to the sink. “Considering yours and Steve’s reactions, I’m rethinking it,” he said, filling the glass before setting it back on the table next to the soldier, who nodded his thanks. He returned to his place in front of the mixing bowl and proceeded to roll out a few more balls of dough and place them in the sugar on the plate. 

Another comfortable silence fell over the trio. Steve looked up from the half-finished gingerbread man over at the scientists at the island and smiled to himself. He certainly hoped the doctor did this more often, if it could create such a warm and tranquil environment between them. 

As he later watched Bruce try to teach Tony how to mix together a simple combination of confectioner’s sugar and milk to drizzle over the cinnamon treats, he knew that he wanted to be a part of something like this again. He understood why Bruce had smiled so fondly over his memories of doing this with Dr. Ross. 

And from the look on Dr. Banner’s face, he had a feeling that he would look back just as fondly on this.

**Author's Note:**

> It tickles me to no end that I can finally use "golly day" and have it be canon within a story.


End file.
